


Run Away

by Donsular



Category: Mary Poppins (Movies)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Danger, Gen, I Swear It’s Not All Miserable, Lessons Learnt, Running Away, Stressed, general misery, this is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-11 20:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donsular/pseuds/Donsular
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. She should’ve known. But then again, every child does it. It’s necessary for their development. But then again, not every child takes it so seriously. Why on earth had she let him leave? London’s such a big place! Anything could happen...





	1. Missing

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Mary had never expected him to react in such a way, but they were never a normal family. Still, it was certainly a surprise. Every child does it at least once in their life. Infact, Mary was certain it was necessary for a child’s development. They always tried it, but it was rare to happen while she was employed as a nanny, it was almost always something that would happen before her arrival. And when she did see it happen, it was something she only experienced with the more difficult children, and she wouldn’t consider him to be a difficult child. She could expect it from their parents; Michael and Jane were always running off when they were younger- but she soon put a stop to that. However, the trio were all quite mature for their age, they had to be after the passing of their mother. Maybe that was why. The sudden need to mature meant they missed out on their more childish behaviours. Maybe now they had mostly recovered, their otherwise hidden problems were finally bubbling to the surface. Maybe, as callous as it sounded, they had always been dysfunctional, but were trying to help each other to get through their grief. Now they could be reverting back to their old ways. Possibly...

From her vantage point on the landing, Mary watched one of the police officers talking on the phone in the hallway. They were having no luck finding him anywhere. Posters had been made and were going up all over London: Georgie Banks, 8 years old, last seen on Friday 29th November leaving home on Cherry Tree Lane. It was difficult to read. He just left home and nobody even tried to stop him. She should have stopped him. She should have known.

After a particularly bad row about some such nonsense, Georgie had vowed to run away. He acted just as she expected he would: he packed a bag of mostly useless “supplies”, such as toys, rather than clothes or food. As she had seen time and time again with countless children in her life, he stomped down the stairs in a huff and out the door. Ellen let him go. John and Annabel let him go. Everyone believed the same thing, that he would go to the end of the street, maybe a local shop, change his mind and come home with the silly notion finally out of his head. So they let him go and went right back to what they were doing.

5 minutes passed. No Georgie. 10 minutes. No Georgie. 15. Still no Georgie. She was so confident that she never raised the alarm. She just put it down to the fact that he probably had some money and had gone to the shop for some food to take with him. She kept putting it off, suspecting he’ll be home any minute. But he wasn’t. Her assurances that he’d come back seemed to settle John and Annabel, but did little to calm her own nerves. Each minute dragged and at the hour mark, she’d had enough. It was getting cold outside and looking at the grey clouds, heavy rain was immanent.

She had hoped he had just gone to the park, or was maybe trying to walk as slow as possible to drag out his time away from home. The park was her first point of call, but after a thorough search, she came up empty. A trip to the shop was also fruitless and no matter how many people she asked, nobody had seen him. The hour dragged to 2 then 3 but she hadn’t a clue where he could have gone. She tried to stay calm, she really did. This was bound to happen one day. A child would really test her methods, she just had to hold out for a little longer. Maybe he had gone home after she left. But upon arriving back, she only found the older banks children, as well as John and Annabel.

Upon first being told what was going on, Michael and Jane reacted the same way everyone else did, but as they learnt more they realised he had been gone for too long for this to be some sort of childish outburst. Something was definitely wrong. Mary never liked it when things were wrong, especially if they were wrong because of her. The last shred of hope of him wandering back through the door with his tail between his legs was soon snuffed as the police arrived. They spoke to everyone in the house and took a look around, finding any possible evidence that they could, before gathering together the first search party. Mary sent the children upstairs to play and keep out of the way. She had intended to stay with them, but found she mostly watched from the landing, returning to the nursery every now and then to check on them. She needed to think. She needed to know what was going on.

The police had been adamant that the family stayed at home in case Georgie returned. They also didn’t want anyone overly emotional tearing around London looking for the boy. It made sense, really, but it was still difficult to put into practice. Michael was pacing the room and had probably already lost a stone from all the exercise, while Jane anxiously tapped her foot. It was driving her mad. On any other day, she would have made a snarky comment about Jane being a drummer or Michael wearing a hole into the carpet, but for once, she felt it best to keep her mouth shut.

They had been quite good really. She had expected there to be more anger and shouting, and for it to be directed at her. But there wasn’t. There wasn’t a single word. They understood her position and didn’t seem to blame her, as far as she knew. Ellen seemed to know the best thing to do would be to keep quiet and make everyone some tea. And Mary knew she should keep quiet and look after what was left of the children.

She hated it: waiting, being completely helpless. Especially since, as she expected it would, it had started raining. A torrential downpour battered the windows and was showing no signs of letting up. She could only hope that wherever Georgie was, he was at least inside and out of the rain. The drab weather was no help for anyone’s mood and when the phone lines went down in the storm, it only made things worse.

Mary couldn’t help but blame herself. Michael and Jane entrusted their children into her care. Such trust is always an honour to receive, and that meant she had standards to live up to, expectations to uphold and children to keep safe. She always prided herself on being able to do that so well. But here she was. She always said she was ‘practically perfect in every way’. It was an impressive sounding phrase but what she always liked about it, was the word ‘practically’. It meant, despite the implications of the rest of the phrase, that she wasn’t actually perfect. She was pretty darn close, but there was still room for mistakes as there is always room for improvement. But it was still hard to acknowledge those mistakes when they did come up. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop her from wanting to get outside and search for Georgie herself, but she didn’t want to upset anyone anymore than they already were. She should stay where she was and actually look after the children, like she failed to do before.

Once again, she wandered back into the nursery to check on John and Annabel. The pair were sitting on the floor, mindlessly fiddling with a toy each, deep in thought. She had never seen them like this and it was tearing at her heart.  
“What if he doesn’t come back?” Annabel’s sudden question was a shock, she hadn’t thought they heard her coming in. For a moment, she expected her query was aimed at John, but when he didn’t answer, she took it as her cue to respond instead.  
“I shouldn’t worry about that. He’s a clever boy. I’m sure he’ll come back. He’s probably with someone, being kept inside out of the rain.”  
“But they would have called.” John gazed at her skeptically, his eyes brimming with tears.  
“Not necessarily. The phone lines are down with this storm. They can’t call at the moment. I’m sure when it stops, someone will call and you’ll get him back again.”

It was only a possibility. There were many things that could have happened. But she wouldn’t tell the children any of that. London was a big place with all kinds of people who would do all kinds of things if they found a child alone in the street. Anything could happen. She pretended to be sure of herself moreso for her own comfort than for theirs. The words were meaningless. They weren’t true. Her certainty was a lie to wrap the children in a set of metaphorical arms and tell them it’s ok. But the words did little to help herself.

She couldn’t bear to imagine what horrible things could happen to him. No matter how hard anyone tried, he still wasn’t found. She couldn’t stand it. The world was cruel and she knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier to actually come to terms with in such circumstances. It was as if the world always wanted to hurt you, but at the same time, didn’t care enough about you to try. If it was an emotion, it was a totally emotionless one. It was hatred, implacable hatred. It was cold, not like ice is cold, but like a wall is cold. It was impersonal, not like a randomly flung fist in a crowd is impersonal, but like a repossession is impersonal. And it was deadly- again, not like a bullet or a knife is deadly, but like an unstable building is deadly. It wanted to hurt you, but their was no true desire. It just happened. And as the search stretched on into the second day, and the third, Mary truly understood how the world could be so cruel as the police found torn clothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the first chapter was pretty interesting. I must have written this a few weeks before A Million Lights In London, so hopefully my writing’s improved since this. Still, as I’ve reread this, i found the story pretty good. Hopefully you’ll think the same. And the next big story after this will hopefully be good too, and a lot of progress has been made with it. So I’ll be seeing you next week, have a nice day!


	2. Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

It’s my 4th day away from home and I’m starting to regret it. I don’t know what time it is but it’s dark and cold and I don’t like it. But I’m not going to go home! I’ve had enough of everything. Everyone thinks that just because I’m little, it means they’re always right, I’m always wrong, and they can treat me however they like. Well, I’m done with it!

I’ve found a nice place to stay for a while that’s better than just sitting in the rain. I’m living in this cool alley that goes under a bridge. Nobody comes down here and if they do, I can hide in one of the boxes around here. There’s a market down the way where I can spend my pocket money on food and steal a bit if I have to. It’s great, I haven’t had anything proper to eat since I left, and I ran out of apples and sweeties yesterday.

I hope nobody finds me here. I made sure they can’t. I tore my clothes so it looks like I died and I’ve covered what I have left in dirt. I also got rid of my hat since it looks too fancy for this place. Oh yeah! I forgot to say. I’m living on the other side of London... I think. It looks like I’m far away at least. Put it this way, my feet really hurt because I was walking so much and I walked almost every day, hiding along the way. He he, they’ll never find me here. There’s lots of dirty small houses all squished together and the people are just as dirty and squished together. Really! The littlest house I’ve ever seen had 10 people in it! I even asked a boy who lived there. He said they only have two bedrooms for everyone!

This place is really weird. There’s a lot of people here in horrible clothes and don’t have enough money to buy things. The other little boys and girls don’t seem to have many or any toys and there’s always big lines of people at job centres. I don’t really know what they’re doing. I don’t get what those places are for. If people work there, shouldn’t they be let in instead of waiting outside? I do think my house was better. We had Ellen and Mary Poppins to help as well, but it doesn’t look like anyone here has a nanny or a cook.

I don’t know what I’m going to do next. I’ll have to keep hiding if I stay in London, so I might have to go away. Mummy used to always talk about how pretty it is in Paris. Maybe I’ll go there. But I’ll need to find out where it is first. And I need to get a grown up job too. Like a banker! Like dad! But- wait- never mind, he’s not a banker, he’s an artist. But I still need a grown up job. Then I can buy a big house and have lots of people working in it. It should be pretty easy. Mum told me all the time how clever I am and how good I am at my take-aways, so I can probably do it. I just have to decide what I want to do.

Dad once said something about there being adverts in newspapers for jobs that you can get, so I think I’m going to do that next. I think I’ll also get some food in the morning because I’m starving. All I’ve had was an apple yesterday and I’ve nearly emptied my water bottle, even though I’ve only been having little sips! The shops might still be open. I don’t know how late it is but there’s still a chance, it’s November so it gets dark really early. And I want to go now, it’s been very stormy recently and I’m already soaked, so I need to go now while it’s not raining.

I’ll be sure to write what happens when I get back. Annabel was right, diaries like you are really good to say things to that you don’t want to tell to people. It’s very helpful!

Many thanks, sincerely

\- Georgie Banks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was going through editing mistakes, I realised how short this chapter is. I felt weird only posting 700 words. And since I’m ahead on writing the next story, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a double upload. Thanks for reading!


	3. Rain In The Alley

It was 7:00pm and the streets of London were dark, only lit every so often by a simple street lamp. Luckily for Georgie, the shop had been open and he was able to get himself a newspaper. However, with it being so late, there was no food. He could feel his stomach growling and could have sworn it was beginning to digest his own body. That had to be his top priority of things that needed to be dealt with. On top of that, the shopkeeper seemed to be very suspicious of the dirty little boy buying a newspaper at 7 at night. He didn’t seem to recognise him or raise the alarm, but it was too much of a close call. There was no point in looking for a job at this point, he had to leave London altogether to avoid being caught and he had 5 pounds to do it (don’t tell, but he’d taken some of that money from his dad and siblings). But his bad luck struck again as he walked the long journey back to his box under the bridge, in the form of heavy rain. For a moment, he was glad he had kept his backpack with him, but upon opening it, he realised he hadn’t brought his coat. Infact, he hadn’t brought much at all. No clothes, the food he had was eaten, he had an empty water bottle, Gillie, some paper, and crayons. Hardly a survival pack. So he was left to just walk through it, all the while, reading the boring stuff in the paper and trying to keep it dry.

The world was quiet, so quiet you could hear the night breathe. On his journey home he did his best to avoid main roads. The concrete jungle had lots of alleyways and tunnels weaving between buildings, perfect for the sort that don’t want to be found. His short legs made it difficult to go as far as a grown up could in the same amount of time, which meant after a half hour walk through his many diversions, he wasn’t much closer to being back. In fact he wasn’t even sure where ‘back’ was. Had he passed it? Was he even going the right direction? He realised he’d been too focused on where he’d been and not enough on where he was going. Now he was hopelessly lost down a ginnel between the backs of a row of terraced houses on his right and the rear side of a line of high street shops on his left.

‘Oh well’, he thought, ‘I guess I needed to find a new place to live anyway.’ He tried to stay positive, but with darkness enclosing in, surrounding him, any forced smile was immediately struck from his face. The wind was no help either. Winter had hit like a welterweight, a jabbing cold you thought you could stand, until the wind rose up and dropped you to the canvas. Colder than the arctic water, showering him from the murky heavens above. Shadows danced around the lampposts as if the were maypoles, consuming the light, crunching it up and spitting it back out completely ruined and dark. Just like them. It was starting to become overwhelming. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as his legs screamed to run, things were coming. Bad things. Evil things. But as his eyes darted left, right, up, down and any other way imaginable, he couldn’t see a monster. He couldn’t see anything. Well, that is, until he could.

About 50 yards down the ginnel stood a terrible creature. A lamp hanging by a shop’s back door illuminated a horrible silhouette, obscured by the rain. He could see four arms, six legs and three heads on the monster, one even having a strange growth emerging from it. It must have been the size of a horse. Then it moved. Six gangly legs moved in unison, approaching with a purpose. With each step closer, he could make out new shapes. The creature’s silhouette seemed to split into three. Three men. Each with arms and legs, definitely humans... thankfully. Their features became clearer and he knew what he was looking at.

They all wore cheap, scruffy clothes. They were nowhere near as well put together as anyone he’d ever known. They were clearly all from the bottom rung of society’s ladder. The three men varied in age. The first appeared to be a young man in his mid to late twenties. A flat cap was pulled down to conceal his clean shaven face as he puffed on a cigarette. He was the tallest of the trio and lanky, with a jacket tightly wrapped around him and the collar popped up. The second was a slightly older, heavier man. He looked to be in his late thirties to early forties. A scruffy handle bar moustache dressed his cunning smirk as his nebulous eyes gleamed in the night. The bulky man’s clothes appeared to be dyed crimson with old congealed blood, but Georgie didn’t want to get closer for a better look. The final man seemed to be only a few years older than the second, but his scar riddled face added at least another ten years. He had terrible posture, his whole body contorted into a C-shape, allowing his thick black beard to nearly graze his knees. He wore a dirty old waistcoat and was covered in soot. Bulky boots stomped towards Georgie as the trio all wore the same no-good cocky grin, staring right at him.

Georgie suddenly became very aware of his own vulnerability. What were they up to? How could he get away? He was confined to a narrow alley that only went one direction. For obvious reasons he couldn’t run straight on and if he bolted back the way he came, his little legs would be no match against theirs. He’d be caught in seconds. So he froze in fear, hoping that he’d just misread their intentions and that they were friendly, or even better, would just walk past and ignore him entirely. But of course, Lady Luck hadn’t been on his side all day, why would it be any different now?

“Lookie lookie what we have here.” The youngest sneered.

“It’s a bit late for you to be out here on your own isn’t it?” Georgie’s head snapped to the eldest at his comment. The middle man turned to the youngest and loudly asked,

“What do you think Tommy? What should we do to him?”

“Well Tony, a kid buying newspapers must have some money.” Tommy sneered.

“And I bet those clothes were mighty pretty before he went and muddied em up.” The eldest pointed at his sundered outfit.

“You’re right Joe, a rich kid could really help the cause. Alright kid, you got money?” Georgie felt like it was best to comply.

“5 pounds.” The men were quite surprised and grinned before asking,

“Where?”

“In my bag.” They chuckled.

“Alright, if you do this nicely, we’ll leave you alone. Give us your bag. Now.” Georgie instantly shied away, going totally silent.

“NOW BOY!”

“NO!” His voice mingled with the stormy weather as a well timed bolt of lightning and the rumble of thunder accentuated his roar. Tony laughed and in a moment, Joe and Tommy joined in. 

“Alright then. That’s fine by me.”

With a sweeping arm, he reached at him, grabbing his back pack and tugging the boy along with it. A blur of hands grabbing and tugging and pulling and shouting. Threats and obscene words he didn’t understand were hurled his way as he screamed. He screamed as loud as he could. Nobody was coming. Why was nobody coming?! He kicked and pulled but the response was a hard kick from a heavy boot in the gut. He cried in pain as his arms wrapped around his stomach involuntarily. This only made them angrier as it was impossible to take the backpack’s straps off his arms. That only attracted a further beating and soon he found he was being kicked and punched. Jolts of agony racked through his body as another cry was torn from his throat. People say you get used to pain, but as the blows continued, there was no way he could. His self control went flying into the depth of his head as blood rushed from scratches and cuts. The boy whimpered and crumbled to the wet floor, curling up into a ball as the violence continued. It only excited the men who taunted and cheered gleefully. Every well aimed blow sent sharp shearing shots of pain through his body. He couldn’t take it any more. He couldn’t take it.

The blackness of unconsciousness beckoned him. The calling warm and comforting. He couldn’t even hear their voices anymore, just the rain screaming as it pelted the cobbled road around him. He barely noticed the fourth voice breaking through the night, or the... thing, rushing towards the group. But before he had a chance to understand what was going on, his attackers were pushed away as something raced past, grabbing Georgie as it did so. He tried to fight it off with the last of his energy, or to scream, but through the wind they seemed to be saying something. He couldn’t make out what. But it was something. Something that was somehow calming, as if his subconscious knew what was being said and reacting, but not telling him what it was. Their arm was wrapped lovingly around him, their firm grip protected him from the abuse being hurled through the air and in that moment, he’d never felt so safe.

“It’s all right Georgie, I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the double upload. The next two chapters are much better lengths so I won’t have to do it again, hopefully. Also, if the money is a weird amount, I couldn’t find any good comparison of how much everything is worth in 1934. Every site had different amounts. So hopefully a fiver is enough. Hope you enjoyed reading and I’ll see you again next week!


	4. I Want To Go Home

It was warm. It was dry. He was swaddled in something soft. Carefully, Georgie opened his eyes to a small room: wooden floors, simple cream wallpaper and a fire place gently lighting the room. A wardrobe was stood against the left wall, facing a window opposite. A set of burnt sienna curtains draped in front of it, obscuring the view of the outside, but the darkness and the pelting sound told him it was still the same night, and still the same storm. At his side was a set of draws, where a glass of water sat on a coaster next to a bedside clock showing it was 3:00am. Looking down at himself, Georgie found he was tucked up in a pretty comfortable bed with a duvet very similar to his own, but this was not the nursery. This was not his home.

Across the room, closest to the window was an old leather armchair. It’s occupant appearing to be asleep. As the room was lit purely by firelight, his position meant it was still not possible to see their face. Was that the person who saved him? All at once, the memories flooded back. As his chest heaved, his head flung to the side. His backpack was slumped against the draws by the bed and Gillie lay at his side. They knew about Gillie? They knew he had him in his bag. They had to have known him.

Georgie sat up quietly and tried to get a better view of the figure. Even as an eight year old, his heart told him to run, but he wanted to know. He shuffled and jostled and the bed gave a creak. Uh oh. Georgie froze in place on the bed. The figure stirred and yawned before a pair of deep brown eyes opened and gazed at him.

“Oh thank God, you’re awake.” That voice. He’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“Jack?”

“At your service.” Suddenly, all the anxiety and nerves that were pent up inside him seemed to melt away. He really was safe. He could trust the lamplighter as much as his own parents. Of all the people to be rescued by, this was the best choice. Jack rose from his chair and paced over to Georgie’s bedside. He wore a smile, but his eyes were laced with concern. He looked incredibly stressed: tatty hair, bags under his eyes and a pale face. He was genuinely worried for the boy, like how a real family should. His mind started to wander. Did Jack love him more than his actual father?

“How’re you feeling? You took quite a few blows there.” He couldn’t quite remember everything that happened. It all went by in such a blur. But what he could remember was the pain. Countless kicks in the stomach but nothing broken. He didn’t seem to be badly hurt, just a bit sore. Jack wasn’t so sure about that, but considering the storm outside, he couldn’t exactly get a doctor’s opinion on the matter.

“I’m ok. Who were those men?” Jack paused, thinking of the best way to word his answer.

“They were some very... desperate men.” But that didn’t really answer his question. Jack didn’t seem to want to delve to far into the topic, but that would never stop an eight year old from asking: ‘why?’

“You see, this area is full of people who either don’t have jobs, or don’t have very high paying ones. And when money gets really tight, and you have to go hungry- well- if that happens often enough, it can lead a man to do stupid things.”

“Why don’t they have good jobs?” He couldn’t understand it. Dad seemed to always just have his nice job. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to do. Right?

“Well, there just isn’t much going if you’re not born rich. You just do what you have to.”

“Even you?”

“Even me. That’s why people like your aunt Jane are so important. She’s kind enough to help us out.” The conversation quickly descended further into the personal life of Jack, who felt a bit awkward talking about it so much, but it was calming Georgie down a bit at least, which was certainly good after the day he had. Georgie learnt that the house was a very full one. In the little 2 up 2 down terrace house, Jack lived with 3 older brothers, 2 older sisters, his mother, father and aunt, his eldest brother’s wife, their 4 year old daughter, and their 18 month old son. They slept all over the house but since a lot of them worked odd hours, there was usually a good enough amount of space. Upon hearing all this, Georgie was very excited to meet them, which, according to Jack, would be possible in the morning.

Georgie started to wonder what the family was like. Having so many in one house would surely be crazy. Personally, he’d probably go mad if he had 5 siblings. With so many people in the house, how would anyone even get any privacy, or attention? He began to wonder that if Jack could manage having such a big family, then why couldn’t he manage his? If they were anything like Jack, then they had to be quite cheerful people despite how much they lacked. It was really a thought that reminded him of how grateful he should be of his own family.

Finally, Jack spoke up, having decided that Georgie was probably relaxed enough to be able to manage the subject.

“So where’ve you been for the past 4 days anyhow?” The question stung a bit. After hearing how Jack lived, it made his own problems seem silly.

“I ran away from home and lived under a bridge.” Jack seemed horrified by the fact but quickly recovered.

“Why’d you do that?”

“I had an argument.”

“About?”

“Stuff.” Jack got the idea, he didn’t want to tell him so he didn’t press it any further. If he wanted to keep it as a private family thing, what business did he have to judge?

“You know, they’ve got the whole of London looking for you.”

“Really? I didn’t think they’d care that much.” Georgie couldn’t meet Jack’s eyes as they widened in surprise at the comment.

“Of course they care! Why wouldn’t they?! You’re their Georgie. “

“No they don’t... even you care more about me.” Jack didn’t know what to say. He was quite sure he knew the children’s father enough to know he loved them. There had to be some kind of misunderstanding. Suddenly, an idea crossed Georgie’s mind:

“Hey, I could stay with you!” Jack was pretty taken aback by the proposal, but before he could speak, the eight year old was quick to assure him it was a good idea.

“I wouldn’t get in the way! I could become a leerie, like you, and earn my own money to pay for my own food!” He was ecstatic about the idea and giddily bounced on the bed where he sat. Unfortunately for him, Jack wasn’t so sure.

“You know, being a leerie isn’t as glamorous as you think. You work really early and late in the day and don’t earn very much.”

“Well you must earn more than those mean men do.” Jack paused for a moment.

“What did they want from you?”

My pocket money, I had 5 pounds, but for some reason they seemed to really care.” That was another surprise for Jack.

“Well, it’s no wonder they were willing to mug a child...”

“Why?”

“5 pouds is more than you think. That’s more than I earn in a weak. They were probably earning even less if they wanted to rob you.” Georgie’s eyes widened. He’d never realised he had so much, he really did come from a rich family.

“You don’t want to spend your life here. You have a lovely house, full of lovely people that really care about you. They’re not perfect, sure, but everyone makes mistakes. Doesn’t mean they don’t care, just means they’re stressed about something. And half the time, it’s you.”

“Yeah, but I just annoy them.”

“No you don’t. Look, when I was a lad, I always loved climbing- still do. And I used to have an obsession with climbing onto the roof. My Ma always hated when I did that. She was terrified that I’d hurt myself. But I never listened to her. After all, it was good fun.”

“And I bet you’d get a nice view.”

“The best. But it was dangerous. And I got lecture after lecture about how I shouldn’t climb onto the roof. But I still didn’t listen. And I went up there more times than I’ve had hot meals. But one day, I lost my footing and fell onto the road.” Georgie inhaled sharply at the thought, cringing as he imagined how painful it would be.

“Did it hurt?”

“I can’t even remember.” Jack laughed, “I was unconscious; cracked my head wide open and broke both of my legs. I was nearly paralysed but was alright in the end... somehow.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, remembering his stupid actions. “But, I did learn that day, that my Ma hadn’t been trying to stop my fun, she just wanted to keep me safe and happy. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but it got the point across.”

“So they get angry because they’re scared?”

“Absolutely. If your Pa’s been scolding you, or Mary, or John or Annabel, it’s because they want to look after you and keep you from doing something stupid like I did. Trust me, they love you. And they’ve been worried sick.”

Georgie sat quietly. He wasn’t sure what to say. It made sense. Before the argument descended into general nonsense, Mary Poppins had been scolding him for playing on the banisters. He’d been sliding down them, jumping over them, and climbing and dangling from the landing over the hall. He’d been adamant that he knew what he was doing, and that there was no way he’d get hurt, but Jack’s story made him reconsider. Jack was the guy that climbed and catapulted his way up Big Ben, and even he’d made mistakes. As he thought about it more, he realised how big of a deal that whole Big Ben incident was. He nearly fell and was terrified when he got to the top. And after he got down, as he thought more about it, his hands had been shaking, his face was deathly white and he was completely out of breath.

As he thought more on the matter, he realised they did care. Picking apart every action they ever took, at least, what he could remember, he started to realise that Jack was right. They never did anything purely out of spite. They always just advised him or kept him safe. Anytime they snapped, like Jack said, was because they were stressed at the time. He started to think more on each person. John had always protected him like a shining knight. Annabel always had the best games. Ellen had stories you could listen to all day. Mary Poppins took them on all sorts of magical adventures. Jane was hilarious and Dad- well, Dad always knew what to say... no matter what. He loved them. He loved them all. And he ran away from them. Jack was right, they must have been so upset. A storm swirled inside as tides rose in his eyes. With a quiver of the lip, the dam burst and tears rolled freely down his face. Jack quickly wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace, rubbing circles on his back.

“It’s all right. It’s all right.” But it wasn’t alright. How could it be? He had run away from home! He upset his family. They loved him and he ran away. He had to go back. He needed to see them again.

“I want to go home.”

“I know. And you will. First thing in the morning, when the storm’s passed, I’ll take you home. But I think for now, you should get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.” Georgie quietly nodded against Jack’s chest and was already falling asleep as Jack laid him down. Pulling up the covers and giving him a pat on the shoulder, he said,

“G’night kiddo.”

“Good night Jack.”


	5. When You’re Home

Five days. He went missing on the Friday morning so at the current time, it had been five days. The clock’s ticks were the only indication of the passage of time as the family sat around the table. Silent. Unmoving. They’d had some news: torn remnants of Georgie’s clothing had been found. The police believed they were no longer searching for a boy, but a body. The news had seriously shaken the household. Michael nearly collapsed upon hearing the news. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. There was no way. Yet somehow, it was.

The chief constable sat in the corner of the room watching as Michael looked over each person at the table. Each one totally silent trying to absorb the information. Jane sat at his right, dried tear tracks stained her face around her eyes which were painted red. She had tried so hard to be positive, but upon hearing the news, she just couldn’t handle it anymore and broke down crying in the dining room.

He looked from his place at the head of the table to Ellen on his left. Her head was downcast and her pale face was stone cold. She looked, on the surface, like her soul had completely died. She sat motionless and emotionless. She had been worrying a lot ever since he went: restlessly bouncing her leg, dropping plates more often than usual and being totally jittery in general. But now, she’d just stopped. She could be loud and mouthy at times, and at others she was like a loving grandma, but she was never silent. She was never still.

Mary sat to the left of Ellen. She had been quiet ever since the police first arrived. Her high headed walk was gone and her snarky comments were a distant memory. He usually sent her to mind the children as they were too young to get involved with it all, but he often spotted her on the landing outside the nursery, watching. Over the course of the five days, Michael was fairly certain that he hadn’t heard a single word from her. She often stayed away from everyone with a face of indifference. But she wasn’t fooling anyone. She had been just as badly effected as the rest of them. And from his seat, despite her clear attempt to hide her own face, he could have sworn he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

He had wanted to be angry. But couldn’t decide at who. He couldn’t be angry at Georgie, he was just a child, every child did this, he was just unlucky. He couldn’t be angry at Mary Poppins. After all, he would have done the same thing as her. She let him go, sure, but so would he. Jane, Ellen, the children deserved no blame, and Jane was always quick to remind him that he couldn’t blame himself. He had been at work, earning money to support the family. He wasn’t there, and there was no reason why he should’ve been.

Everything was different. He couldn’t bear to breathe a second longer, but he couldn’t lose any more children. Annabel and John were upstairs. He supposed he’d have to tell them at some point. They were still so young; the twins were only 10. The pair were still in bed. To avoid the chance of them overhearing anything, they had been allowed to sleep in in the mornings. It couldn’t be kept from them, but how exactly would he tell them? ‘Oh hey, you know how you loved your brother? Well guess what? He’s dead!’ Well, at least the police thought he was. Maybe he just had to stay hopeful. Maybe they would find him alive. Maybe he ran away and was actually managing it, he might not be hurt at all. Ideas and hopes swirled in his mind. But in the eye of a hurricane there is quiet. For just a moment: a yellow sky. Very quickly, the storm returned and soon his mind was once again flooded with what ifs. What if he was found by some sad old man? Everyone knew men like that would kidnap and do unsavoury things to children when given the opportunity.

Jane looked like she wanted to speak, but seemed to be unsure. After a moment, she was finally able to form the words.

“What now? Do we tell John and Annabel?” Ellen looked at Jane in horror, as if the thought had never crossed her mind. Her eyes shot between Mary, who still hadn’t looked up, and Michael. But he had no answers to give.

“I-“ his voice caught, “I don’t know.” Barely able to keep a steady voice, he looked to the constable sitting quietly, silently pleading for any advice that he had at his disposal to give.

“Well sir, you may not want to tell them exactly what’s going on, but I’d certainly give them some sort of update.”

“And you’re really sure that he’s- dead?”

“I’m afraid, sir, that from my unfortunate past experiences, I know that if a child is missing for so long, with no leads and now signs they may be hurt, then it’s almost guaranteed that if we find him, he won’t be... alive.” The world was spinning, but out of nowhere, a new voice called out,

“Georgie’s dead?!” All eyes shot to the source: John and Annabel standing at the bottom of the stairs, tears welling up in their eyes. Michael hadn’t been ready for it. Everyone was silent. Nobody knew what to say. Mary and Ellen seemed to think it wasn’t their place to tell the children such things, but Michael wouldn’t be much better at it. In the end, Jane was the one who rose from her seat and paced over towards the pair.

“It’s not true, is it?” Annabel wept and bundled herself into her aunt’s arms. 

“I’m afraid- it is.” John finally cracked and joined the hug, desperately needing some sort of comfort in the awful situation.

The family all sat close in the living room, each seeking a silent comfort. Eventually, there was a knock on the door. Another officer stood there with a grey look on his face. From his seat, Michael watched as the officer spoke to the constable in hushed whispers, each word seeming to bend his frown further. He tried to listen for the details but ended up hearing only one thing:

“Then we must locate these men if we are to find the body.” His heart shot through his chest as the words cut deep, somehow made even worse by the constable’s announcement.

“I am sorry to have to say this, but- a report has come in. Last night, on the other side of London, behind a row of terrace houses, locals heard men shouting and the screams of a child. By the time they arrived to help, the boy and the culprits had already left. It appears that he may have been murdered.” Michael realised suddenly, what this meant about the case: Georgie must have been wandering around London for the past 4 days before coming into contact with those men. 4 days! In 4 days, nobody saw him freely wandering London. They hadn’t searched hard enough. They let themselves stay at home instead of ignoring the police and going to search for themselves. They let this happen. And now he was gone. He was actually gone.

“Those sick bastards.” Everyone turned to Ellen in shock and were even more surprised at Mary’s response.

“Quite.” Hearing Mary speak again really gave him an insight into her. Her voice had wavered and her hands had trembled. Inside, it was obvious, she was battling a war between professionalism and sentimentality. And through the circumstances, her professional side was losing. Now he looked at her, it was very obvious in her appearance that she was struggling to hold herself together. Her clothes were not nearly as neat as normal and her hair’s updo looked rushed and cobbled together with some parts of hair not properly tied into it and left hanging loose. Her facade wasn’t fooling anyone. He watched as her eyes anxiously kept glancing at the front door, as if she was wishing that, at any moment, he would arrive back home. But it was merely wishful thinking.

Everyone sat quietly after that. It was all so much to comprehend. Shivers ran down Michael’s spine at the thought of any man trying to kill a child. It wasn’t right. Nobody knew what to do. A numbness set in and everyone just tried to think of Georgie happily, without allowing thoughts of his murder to cross their minds.

An engine whirred outside. Nobody stirred. Cars drove passed their house every day. When the engine stopped without passing, nobody stirred. Cars often stopped by their house to visit the neighbours. It was only upon hearing the knock on the door that anyone reacted. Jane looked out of the window to see the leeries’ van. She hadn’t seen Jack since the day Georgie left and just hoped to God he had more cheerful news. She bounded to the door, flinging it open in the hopes that the enthusiasm would show the universe she deserved happiness. And the universe smiled upon her.

Upon opening the door, there stood Jack, a smile on his face. And at his side, tatty and emotional, but alive, stood Georgie.

Georgie.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she crouched to embrace the boy with a relief she had never once before experienced. A spine tingling urge to never let go overcame her, as if, if she released her arms, he would disappear. Georgie desperately clung to her as if she was his mother and shuddered quietly as he wept against her chest. This quickly drew the attention of the family who were quick to bound to the door. A joyous uproar filled the house. Michael was very quick to scoop him up in his arms and hugged him tightly, relishing in the experience of holding his son once again. John and Annabel jumped with excitement, hugging everyone in the room as Ellen performed her own joyful little dance. Even Mary joined in the gleeful cheers with a hand on her heart as she attempted to calm its rapid beats.

Michael had sworn he’d never felt joy like it. Whole new feelings he never knew existed were brought to the surface as he was filled with a love he couldn’t believe was real. He realised that he truly couldn’t live without his son. He made him wiser, calmer, and brighter. He used to want a great deal of things and be angry if he did not receive them. But in this moment, he realised the only thing he needed. The only think he wanted. His family. His son. It was incredible. It was as if he wasn’t human, but a creature of fantasy. Anything that nobody ever saw, and everything that everybody ever wanted. He was swallowed up into an abyss of love and relief in an instant. There was no pausing on the brink; no looking down, or looking back; he was gone, headlong, before he had sense to say a word to him.

“What happened?!”

“Where have you been?!”

“What happened to your clothes?” Questions. Questions. Questions. All thrown faster than a bullet flies. It was then, that Jack, who had otherwise been ignored for the duration of the reunion, spoke up from his place in the doorway.

“He’s had a few difficult days, I think right now, he’s in desperate need of some tlc.” Eyes all turned to Jack.

“Where did you find him?” Ellen asked.

“He was down a ginnel. Some men were trying to take his bag.” The room fell quiet as Michael carefully inspected the bruise on his cheek:

“I’ve never wanted to see anyone more in my life. Thank you Jack. Thank you for bringing him back. He rose and strode towards the leerie, taking his hand and shaking it vigorously. Jack didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stand there.

“You’re welcome.” Jack beamed as he watched the happy family, never more delighted to be together. Mary strode to his side, flashing him a smile.

“It’s a good thing we have you Jack. Thank you. This is a huge thing for them.” He turned to her. She was such a strange woman. He’d always pretended to understand her, but he had as little of an idea of how her mind worked as anyone else. And to see her so sentimental for a child in her care was certainly a strange sight. She normally would avoid becoming attached, but he could see the tears in her eyes, the tears she tried to obscure with a laugh. She thought he couldn’t see, but he could. She wasn’t fooling anyone. She cared a great deal more than she’d ever let on, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” Her face was appalled at his sudden behaviour, it only fed his urge to laugh.

“Honestly Jack, you’re just as bad as Bert! What on earth is so funny?” He took a calming breath and looked her in the eye with as much sincerity as he could give.

“You don’t need to pretend that you weren’t worried for him as well. Caring for other people is what keeps you from being a psychopath.” 

“How- Why- I-.... Jack.. that’s enough.” Her face went bright red as she stuttered and turned away, but she couldn’t help but look back at him. The stupid grin on his face only had her in a fit of giggles. Of course she had made a point of this bad habit to Jane, but for now, who cared? The pair just went on smiling wide as they watched the Banks repair their bonds. It was strange. In any other family, they would never have so much chaos. But that was just the Banks way, and as Mary watched, she realised:

She wouldn’t want it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this! With this being written before a million lights, it was my first fic. And I’m very happy to see it’s gone down this well, even though it’s been a bit short. Next week, the first chapter of the next story will go up. I hope you’re looking forward to ‘Jane & Esther’ since I’ve been having a lot of fun writing it. Thanks again for reading this, and I’ll see you all next week!


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